Chapter 548: Chapter-548
"It is alright," the Prime Minister smiled, his eyes crinkling with feigned warmth. "I know how it is. Anyway, you cannot stop the Madam when she sets her mind to something. She simply has too much of a sweet tooth."
He adjusted his silk sleeves, his movements elegant and unhurried. He turned his gaze toward the winding stone path that led deep into the estate’s private gardens, toward the isolated Water Pavilion.
He took a slow step forward, then paused, looking back over his shoulder at the gathered servants.
"Ah, one more thing," the Prime Minister requested, his voice dropping into a soft, intimate tone. "I have had a very long, stressful day at the Imperial Court. I want to spend some time alone with the Madam to unwind."
He offered the maids a charming, deeply convincing smile.
"Make sure there are absolutely no servants or guards lingering around the Water Pavilion tonight, okay? I do not want us to be disturbed."
Hearing his request, the young maids completely misunderstood his intentions. Their faces flushed an even deeper, burning crimson. To their naive eyes, he was just a deeply romantic, passionate husband wanting a private evening with his beloved young wife.
"Yes, Master!" the maids quickly agreed, bowing their heads to hide their giddy smiles. "We will clear the gardens immediately. No one will disturb you."
"Thank you," the Prime Minister whispered.
He turned away from them, walking slowly down the lantern-lit path. As soon as the shadows of the bamboo grove swallowed him, concealing his face from the swooning servants, that warm, gentle smile completely vanished.
His handsome face went dead. The bottomless, terrifying void returned to his dark eyes, and a cold, sadistic anticipation settled into his bones as he walked toward the completely isolated, unguarded Water Pavilion.
The Water Pavilion was arguably the most breathtaking architectural masterpiece within the Prime Minister’s sprawling estate.
Built entirely out of fragrant cedarwood and polished white jade, the pavilion sat suspended over the center of a massive, crystal-clear koi pond. Sweeping willow branches draped down from the banks, their leaves grazing the surface of the water. Delicate, translucent silk curtains hung between the carved pillars, billowing softly in the cool evening breeze. Dozens of glowing paper lanterns cast a warm, golden light across the rippling water, creating an ethereal, almost magical atmosphere.
It was a place designed for poetry, romance, and tranquility.
But for the woman sitting motionless at the center of the pavilion, it was nothing more than an exquisitely decorated, inescapable cage.
Sitting gracefully on a velvet cushion was the Prime Minister’s third wife.
She was exactly twenty years old, yet anyone looking at her would immediately question their own eyes. Her bone structure was incredibly petite, fragile, and heartbreakingly thin. With her delicate facial features, soft jawline, and small stature, she looked no older than sixteen.
She was undeniably beautiful. Her skin was as flawless as white porcelain, and her features were elegant and refined. Yet, when placed standing next to the sheer, drop-dead gorgeous, otherworldly perfection of the Prime Minister, her beauty naturally paled in comparison.
But it wasn’t her small stature that drew the eye; it was how heavily she was adorned.
She was dressed in layers of impossibly heavy, suffocatingly rich crimson silk. She was draped in jewels from head to toe. Massive gold hairpins studded with rubies weighed down her elaborate hairstyle. Thick bangles of imperial green jade circled her painfully thin wrists, and a heavy pearl necklace rested against her collarbone. She looked exactly like a priceless, fragile vase that a wealthy man had excessively decorated to show off his fortune.
And just like a porcelain vase, she was completely empty inside.
Where a twenty-year-old woman’s eyes should hold the bright sparkle of youth, or at least the quiet maturity of an aristocratic wife, her dark eyes were a complete, terrifying blank. There was no joy, no sadness, and absolutely no life in them. She stared out at the dark water of the koi pond, unblinking, looking into a void that only she could see.
As the maidservants finished clearing away her untouched dinner, they shot her covert, highly judgmental glances.
To the servants of the estate, the third wife was a baffling, frustrating anomaly. They simply could not understand what was wrong with this woman.
Their Master, the Prime Minister, was the absolute pinnacle of a perfect husband. He was chatty, endlessly gentle, breathtakingly handsome, and showered her with expensive pastries and jewels. He spoke to the servants with a warm smile and treated his household with grace.
And how did the Madam repay him? By acting like a cold, mute doll.
She almost never spoke. She didn’t manage the household accounts, she didn’t socialize with the other noble ladies, and she never smiled when her husband walked into the room. She just sat there, day after day, wrapped in her heavy silks, staring at the walls.
’She is so ungrateful,’ the maids often whispered to each other in the kitchens. ’The Master treats her like a goddess, and she treats him like a ghost.’
What completely baffled the servants was her sheer audacity. It had been nearly three years since the grand wedding, and her stomach remained completely flat. In a society where a woman’s entire worth was tied to her ability to produce a male heir, failing to get pregnant after three years was grounds for immediate divorce or the introduction of a dozen concubines.
Yet, even with her barren status hanging over her head, she still had the guts to act so cold and aloof. She never panicked, never visited the fertility temples, and never begged the Prime Minister for forgiveness.
The servants scoffed internally, picking up their trays to leave the pavilion as they had been ordered. They thought she was just an arrogant, spoiled, and emotionally dead woman who didn’t appreciate the paradise she lived in.
They had absolutely no idea that the woman sitting before them wasn’t arrogant, nor was she ungrateful.
She was just completely, irreparably broken, silently waiting in the dark for the smiling monster to come walking down the garden path.
The last of the maidservants bowed and scurried away, taking their lanterns with them. The heavy silence of the night descended upon the Water Pavilion, broken only by the gentle swish of the koi fish swimming in the dark pond and the soft rustling of the willow leaves.
The third wife did not move. Her hands rested perfectly still on her lap, the heavy imperial jade bangles weighing down her wrists.
Then, the sound started.
Click. Step. Click. Step.
It was the slow, unhurried sound of soft-soled boots walking against the wooden planks of the zigzagging bridge that connected the pavilion to the main gardens.
A normal wife hearing her husband approach might turn her head, smile, or at least shift her posture. The third wife did absolutely none of that. However, if one looked closely, the absolute stillness of her body wasn’t born of relaxation. It was the rigid, paralyzing stillness of a rabbit that had just heard the snap of a twig beneath a wolf’s paw.
Her breathing shallowed, becoming completely silent.
The Prime Minister stepped beneath the translucent silk curtains and entered the pavilion.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter